


Hold This Flower

by emmygranger95



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 02:15:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11819112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmygranger95/pseuds/emmygranger95
Summary: “Hey there ! I was just wondering if I could request imagine with a plus size reader ? Maybe something where she was the female member of the shield and [Dean and her] had a romance storyline that carried on after the [Shield] breakup and they’re also dating in real life as well ? Just a bunch of fluff. If not, I’m sorry to disturb you at this late hour.” - anon from tumblr





	Hold This Flower

“Don’t tell him I told you.”

“Roman, when have I ever told a secret?”

“Literally all the time.”

You laughed, burning with embarrassment. “Okay, you’re right.”

“I’m serious, [Y/N]. Don’t even hint that you know. He’ll kill me.”

You looked at Roman, sitting next to you. “I’m not gonna-”

“Shh,” he hushed, “don’t look at me. What if he comes through and sees us talkin’?”

You couldn’t help it. You giggled, slapped his arm. “Are you telling me Big Bad Roman is afraid of my soon-to-be-”

 

“Shh, put your head down, there he is,” Roman hissed, grabbing his plate of unfinished steak, potatoes, and salad and making to leave.

Sure enough, there was Dean, hands taped and ready for his match, walking towards them.

It had been a blessing, having Dean back on Raw. After the Shield break up two years back and the draft last year, you and Seth and Roman had all ended up on the same Raw roster. You’d been heartbroken, when you found out, but Dean assured you that he wouldn’t let that separate the both of you. “Just keep that bastard Seth at an arm’s length, okay?” He’d said with a wink. The break up might have been the betrayal of the century for the WWE universe, but for the four of you, it was nothing but creative’s latest storyline.

Still, you had to hand it to creative, as well as Vince. Vince had noticed the on-screen chemistry between you and Dean, and told creative to book a romance. It went along with his plan, anyway. Had your chemistry not been noticed, it would’ve still been three against one by the time of the break up. They wanted to set Seth as the worst person imaginable, and it just so happened that stabbing his brothers in the back was nothing compared to clapping his real life sister in the back with a steel chair.

“Hey, Dean!” Roman smiled nervously, nearly gone. Dean held a hand out in front of him, stopping Roman dead in his tracks.

“Why you leavin’ so soon, brother? I just got here.”

Roman swallowed a gulp, flashed Deano a brilliant smile. “Gotta get ready for that match against Braun. You know how it is.”

“That I do, brother, that I do.” He dropped his hand to let Roman pass, and turned his attention to you. He sat down in Roman’s recently vacated chair, legs spread apart, one arm draped on the back of your own chair.

“What was that all about?” Dean asked, ever in character. Nothing slipped past the ol’ lunatic fringe. His mind moved way too quickly for that. Luckily, you were quicker.

“My match with Nia. I asked him for advice. He bounced when he saw you because he knows how you feel about me asking anyone else for ring advice.”

He shot me a confused look. “I’m not that bad, am I? Looked like Roman saw a ghost.”

You feigned thinking about it, looking up at the ceiling, then back at him. “No, you’re pretty bad.” You reached for his face, scratching at his beard. His eyes fluttered closed, reveling in the feeling of your soft skin. One of his hands grazed your body, squeezing those parts of you that you tended to dislike.

“You know I don’t like when you do that to my fat.”

His eyes opened. “We’ve been through this, baby.”

“I know, but-”

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then you like it. What you don’t like is that you’re bigger than the average woman, but you know that doesn’t bother me.” A hand touched your cheek. “It’s actually one of the things I love most about you. There’s more of you to love. And I plan on loving every goddamn inch of you.”

It was enticing. There was a growl in his voice you only heard when he was filled with lust for you, but he wasn’t making any definitive moves. Plus, you had a match.

“[Y/N]! Backstage in five minutes!” As if on cue, one of the backstage hands called out.

Dean’s light blue eyes shined with love, head nodding in the direction of the assistant. “Go on, baby. Kick that ass.”

“I’m losing this one.”

“All the more reason why you should kick that ass.”

A woman’s shout from outside the catering room. “I heard that, Dean!”

Nia. You stifled a giggle, your boyfriend smirking in Nia’s direction.

“Damn right ya did!”

 

9 DAYS LATER

You were due for a few days off. On screen injury from Nia and that Little Miss Bitch ambushing you during your match against Emma. Okay, and it was Christmas.

Dean wasn’t about to let those few days pass without making sure he got to spend time with you, so you figured this was probably it. The Day.

You were taking a flight home with Seth. Dean was going to be meeting the both of you in Iowa, at your parents’ house. You shook your head. This situation screamed Big Deal, even if Roman hadn’t warned you about it. Every minute on the plane at Seth’s side was making you more and more nervous.

Seth hadn’t spoken the entire flight.

But you did your best to stay busy; after all, three hours was too long to be bored. You silently thanked the universe for remembering to bring your iPad and headphones, drowning out the silence between the two of you with some Five Finger Death Punch. Because angst.

Obviously, “I Apologize” was on repeat. It was the song you imagined played in the background of a shield reunion promo. But of course that would never happen. Roman was doing too well on his own for Vince to jeopardize that with a reunion, and you understood that perfectly.

“Hey, sis?”

You almost didn’t hear it. But you had seen him shuffle in his seat, and you knew that something was wrong. Seth slept like a bear on most flights.

You took both headphones out, all too eager to break this tension. “Yeah?”

He looked at his feet, struggling to find the words. Your hand reached out to him, hand covering his own.

“You know that…Dean’s gonna…”

“I know.”

“How did you…?” His voice drifted away, thinking. You let him, because the answer was simple. “Fucking Roman,” he realized.

“Yeah, Roman. But you aren’t really that much of a secret keeper, either. Or were you not just about to tell me, too?”

Seth sighed, caught. “Yeah, I was.”

He was quiet again. You were about to check if he’d drifted off to sleep, when he spoke. “Listen, I’m ecstatic for you. I honestly never imagined that your relationship with Dean would amount to this.” 

You raised an eyebrow, wondering if you should be offended. “That’s not what I mean,” he said. He let out a sigh, mustering up the right words for what he was about to say. “You and I both know that everyone on the roster knows about my relationships with women.”

“If you can call them relationships,” You quipped.

“Exactly. And everyone thinks I’m the only one with a history like that. But Dean used to be the same. That’s why, early on in your relationship, I was worried. But I never said anything, because you were happy.”

“I guess what I’m saying is, that if he ever does anything to treat you wrong, I’m here. I’ll kick his ass all the way back to Cincinnati if I have to, if it’s what you want. I won’t let him hurt you.”

You stared at him, tears pooling at the corners of your eyes. “Seth…”

“Fuck, oh, shit, sis…don’t start that crying shit,” he griped, hand pulling out from under yours, “you know that crying shit makes me uncomfortable.”

You slapped him on the arm. “You fucking asshole,” you whined. “You knew that would make me cry.”

“That’s why I didn’t want to fucking say it.”

“But you did, and it was beautiful.”

“Don’t start that shit, oh my God.”

“Give me a hug, Seth,” you cried.

“No, what? Don’t get near me.”

“Please?”

He was halfway off his seat, keeping the distance between the two of you at its max.

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on.”

He looked at you, mascara sliding down your face, eyes red and puffy. But happy. You were happy, and he saw that.

So he couldn’t say no.

“Ugh, fine.”

 

The rest of the flight was uneventful, and the both of you made it to your parents’ place in one piece. You wrapped your blue scarf tightly around your neck, pulled your jacket closer against you.

It was freezing. You grabbed your suitcase and left Seth to pay the driver.

Mom had the door open before you could even knock. “Sweetheart!”

“Merry Christmas, Mom!” You wrapped her in a warm embrace.

“Merry Christmas to you, too, honey. Go on, your father’s in the living room. Oh, Seth!” She reached for her beloved son, paying no more mind to you, her daughter. You rolled your eyes, dropping off your suitcase by the stairs.

“Happy holidays, Ma.”

“Oh, that’s right. The non-believer,” Mom said jokingly.

“Mom,” you chastised, saving your brother from torture. “Be nice.”

“Okay, okay….are you hungry? There’s leftovers in the fridge if you want some.”

“Good, I’m starved.” He said, rubbing at his tummy. She led him by the hand to the kitchen, and you smiled. “Catering can’t beat your cooking.”

He was a momma’s boy through and through, that one.

You heard laughter coming from the living room. It sounded like two voices. One deep, one mellow.

You traipsed through the doorway yelling, “Dad! I’m home!” before you stopped short, catching that flair of ginger, those dazzling eyes. “Dean?” you gasped. He had told you his flight was delayed, that he wouldn’t be there for another couple hours or so.

“Hey, babe. Your dad and I were just talkin’ about the day you were born.”

“Yeah, a chubby lil’ thing,” Dad grunted, remembering the day well. “I’d never thought you’d grow into the big, strong woman you are now.”

“Papi!” You plopped down next to him on the couch before he could stand, squeezing him tightly.

“Hola, mijita. How’s my little girl?”

“I’m great, pa, now that all three of my boys are here, together.”

Dean let out a few light chuckles. “Don’t let Roman hear you say that. You’ll break his heart.”

 

After spending quite some time in the living room with your mom, dad, Seth, and Dean (consisting heavily of nagging from your mother and saving Seth from interrogation, starting with “So, Seth, honey, how’s your love life going? Am I going to be expecting some grandchildren anytime soon from any of your lovers?” and ending with “How are you going to find yourself a good, loving relationship with a woman if you don’t have a good, loving relationship with God?”), Mom and Dad retired to bed, your dad claiming to be exhausted from second-hand nagging, and your mother just tired of her heathen spawn (a lie, of course, she loved both of you know matter what). Seth chuckled, shaking his head.

“Is it like this every time you come home?” Dean asked, clearly amused at the mother-son dynamic. You were sitting on his lap, sinking both of you deeper and deeper into the soft couch, but Dean didn’t seem to mind. His hands held you cozily, one hand on your outer thigh, the other wrapped around and tucked into your under arm. He claimed he liked your warmth.

“Just at Christmas. Otherwise, I have free reign.”

You conversed back and forth for a while, all of you entranced with the conversation of, “So what are we going to do come January? What are the storylines going to look like?” It was safe to say all of you were workaholics. There was something strange about being home, as if home was really somewhere else, on the road, with the rest of the crew. Five years ago, that would have been abhorrent to think about - not having a true home. But it took you that long to realize your home was anywhere Dean and Seth were. Roman, too.

Just then, you heard Roman’s all too familiar voice from somewhere beneath you.

“You can Believe That!™”

Dean didn’t flinch or jump, but something in his voice sounded a little shaken. “What the hell?”

You laughed, the look on Dean and Seth’s faces completely priceless. “That’s Roman’s text tone on my phone. I made him record it a couple weeks ago.”

“That’s the….most terrible thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” Seth griped at you, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “You can practically hear the trademark in his voice.”

“He’s right, that sounds terrible.”

“Don’t be mean to Roman! It was my idea anyway. I forced him into it,” you slapped Dean on the arm, reached behind you to see what Roman sent, making sure to keep the screen away from Dean’s eyes.

[So?]

You quickly sent back,

[Not yet. Shush.]

You hoped he’d realize that he shouldn’t send any more messages. When you heard his trademark again, you nearly broke down in anger, but were surprised to find a picture of Roman and Galina in Cancun, the beautiful bright blue water shining behind them. He was kissing her cheek, and you could see the blush lightly shading her gorgeous brown skin.

“What’s he saying?”

You silently thanked Roman for not listening to your text, ultimately giving you some back up evidence in case Dean asked. And he had.

You showed him the picture of Galina and Roman. “Aren’t they adorable?”

“Yeah. They look so happy. Good for them.”

You handed the phone to Seth. “They’re so precious.”

“I wouldn’t say Roman is precious.”

“Ugh, whatever!”

Seth handed the phone back, and made to stand. He stretched his arms, his black haired happy trail visible for a moment. “Well,” he groaned, “I’m gonna hit the sack. Maybe play some videogames before I go to sleep. You need anything, Dean, clothes or anything, just let me know.”

“Thanks, brother. Good night.”

 

“You wanna go for a walk with me?” Dean asked, squeezing you tightly. Sometimes it really struck you how different Dean could be from the man he played in the ring. Sure, there were some truths to his character - the impulsive nature, the (for the most part) no-care attitude…but there were a lot of traits he possessed that no one ever got to see, and would be surprised to find out about him. He was very sweet, and very touchy. He loved to keep his hands on you in every moment, whether it was a thumb pressed against your side or a hand on your thigh.

You weren’t nearly as touchy, which you considered a side effect of never being touched. Your parents were only semi-affectionate in the touch department, hugs in welcome and kisses good night. And your infrequent experience with men didn’t help, either.

But all of that was okay. All that time lacking personal affection made his touch all the more welcome. His touch was the only touch that really, truly, made you feel safe. But his touch wasn’t going to keep you warm outside, unfortunately. “Dean, it’s in the twenties. That’s below freezing. Have you forgotten the snow on the ground?”

“So?” he shrugged, “it’ll be fun.” You both sat there in silence, mulling it over. You could hear him humming softly, awaiting your response. His cheek vibrated beneath yours as he did so, and you grinned.

It was only then that you realized he was humming silently the chorus to Bad Touch.

You and me, baby, we’re nothing but mammals

So let’s do it like they do on the discovery channel

Repeatedly. For no reason.

“Okay,” you laughed, “if only to get you to stop humming that song.”

“It’s so catchy.”

“Exactly. I don’t want to catch it.”

“Alright, baby, up you get,” Dean said, patting your thighs, signaling for you to get off him. You stood, turned back to grab his hand and help him up from his sunken position in the couch.

“You’re really stuck in there, aren’t you?”

He grunted, “I had about 243 pounds of love on top of me.”

“Have you been stalking my Wikipedia page?” You pulled on him, hard. He popped out of the couch and rammed into you, nearly knocking the both of you backwards.

“Whoops,” he muttered, hands gently resting at your waist, quick to benefit from the blunder. “And no, I haven’t. I do watch women’s matches, you know. Especially yours. I know how they bill you.”

“And do you know my actual weight?”

His proud smile dropped in confusion. “You mean that’s not your weight?”

“It was. Now it’s not.”

“You got me.” He gave you a kiss on the nose. “I have no clue what your actual weight is.”

“Two forty. I lost three pounds last week.”

“Now why’d you go and do that for?”

“Because I wanted them to bill me with an even number,” you laughed.

“Baby, that’s three pounds less of you to love.” He sighed dramatically. “But if it makes you happy, it makes me happy. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dean.”

“So will you take that walk with me?”

“Of course I will.”

 

Whoever thought hell was a burning pit of fire had never seen ice.

The field that your parents called their backyard glistened with snow. The trees bordering the field were a good acre away at least, and the driveway in front was already being blanketed with tiny little snowflakes.

It was fucking freezing, the wind was quietly howling in your ears, and Dean’s body was as cold as your own.

It was a good day to die together, you mused.

“Dean, why did you talk me into this?” You seethed through chattering teeth.

“I have no earthly idea,” he trembled, hands holding one of your own close to his chest as y'all walked. You were glad of it. It was easing the cold, if but a fraction. “But I’m starting to regret it. Come on, we can take shelter in the barn.”

“Dean, I don’t think that’s-”

But he was gone, in the blink of an eye he had crossed the distance from you to the barn, cold hands rubbing together; he blew on them to melt his frozen fingers, and opened the barn door just a smidge. He slithered in, careful not to open it too far or else he’d let in too much of the cold.

He’d regret that, too. That barn was always a mess.

You stood there in the snow, speechless. You were amazed at his impulsive nature, and how very quickly he left you out in the cold by yourself.

“He just-?” you muttered, flabbergasted. You shook your head, and continued the walk to the barn, cursing silently at him but also finding his behavior extremely funny.

His head popped out suddenly from the crack of the barn door. “Come on, babe, what gives?”

“Oh, I’ll fucking show you what gives.” More grumbling from you, followed by rubbing of your arms as you reached the door. “Fucking left me out in the damn-”

You shut up as soon as you saw the scene before you, straight out of a teen fairytale.

Twinkling fairy lights strung across the ceiling. And it was clean. Even the horses in their stables smelled like flowers, and there were a great deal of flowers. They covered every inch of the barn, from the floor to the top, the hay bales on the loft nearly invisible under the coat of white and purple roses. Every piece of farming equipment was mounted and stored at one corner of the barn, out of mind and spotless.

And Dean: mouth closed, lips curled at one end in a crooked smile. A red rose in his hand, trembling slightly. Ocean blue eyes bright with hope.

“Dean?”

He stepped close, handed you the rose. “Hold this flower.” You giggled, accepting it, in awe at the way he presented it to you.

You were very confused. Sure, you knew what was happening, but you were amazed at how. The shock of the beauty surrounding you had you thinking.

He planned this out, all right. He planned this out well. He had help, and lots of it.

And this was so un-Dean.

“Ya like it?” He asked, nonchalant as ever. Only the trembling in his left hand gave away his true feelings. He caught you staring at it, and he buried it in the pocket of his jeans, taking a step back from you.

“It’s beautiful,” you sighed, taking a whiff of the dazzling rose. It smelled fresh, crisper than the scent of cold. You made to take a step closer to him, but he stopped you, holding out a palm.

“No, just stand right there.”

You did as he commanded, waiting patiently.

He ran a hand through his hair, dropped it to scratch at his beard. You wondered what he was going to say.

“Look, you’re probably wondering what all this is.”

You nodded, silent.

“I planned this out. With your mom and dad. Strange, I know,” he chuckled. “I’m not usually the kind of guy with a plan. I’m that guy with the impulse, the kinda guy who changes his mind once, twice, three times in the span of five minutes.”

“But this took me weeks to plan, and I did it. All of it. For you.”

By then you were on the verge of crying. You did your best not to, but you drew your eyes to the ground, shying away from his words. He took a step closer, and stopped himself.

“Stay with me, babe. Show me those beautiful eyes. I need you to listen to me. Please.”

You nodded, looking back up to him, doing your best to hold back your tears.

“[Y/N], I planned this out for you because I wanted to prove to you that you are not some impulse. I’ve thought about it, for weeks, months even. All that time apart, you and Seth and Roman on Raw and me on Smackdown, I thought about it.”

He sighed, but not a sigh of resignation…but one of love. “I love you. I love you so much. I love every little bit of you. I love your laugh. Your eyes. That you can’t keep a secret worth a damn. Your dimples. The small freckles that litter your body. Your humor. Your tummy fat. Your hip fat. The way your arm jiggles when I poke it. Your gorgeous, chubby cheeks. Your plump ass. No, don’t stop me now, I’m almost done,” he held his hand up again, stopping you from your wordless protests. “I love every single bit of you and I promise you, though you may not love it yourself, I’ll love you enough for the both of us.”

A shudder of breath escaped your lips, still unable to grasp the reality of the situation.

He stepped closer, dropped down on one knee. His hands fumbled at his jacket pocket, took out the small, navy velvet box.

“I know that I won’t always be the best person. I’m an impulsive, belligerent, don’t-give-a-damn kind of fool.” His fingers opened the box, revealing a small diamond on a simple silver band, absolutely perfect. “But I promise I will make you laugh every day for the rest of our lives, if you’ll let me.”

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, will you marry me?”

You couldn’t choke back the tears any longer. You dropped down to look Dean in the eyes and nodded desperately, a silent yes all he needed in order to wrap his arms around you and kiss you on the forehead, rubbing his nose against yours.

“For all intents and purposes, that was a yes, right?” He asked.

“Of course, you asshole,” you cried, not wanting to let him go. You could feel him chuckling against you, before his head lifted away from you and he shouted in the direction of the barn door.

“Come on in, everybody!”

Seth came in first, black beanie covering his ears from the cold, jacket wrapped tight against him. “It’s about fucking time, goddamn it.”

“You know, for someone who doesn’t believe in God, you sure like to invoke his wrath a whole lot more than the average person.”

“Ma, please.”

“Honey, leave him alone,” Dad appeared behind his wife and son, “this isn’t about him. This is about my baby girl.” His arms reached for you as you stood up to embrace him, the strong scent of his cologne filling your nostrils. The road might be home, but your old man never failed to make you feel welcome.

“Heya, Papi.”

“Congratulations, mijita.” He let you go, and held out a hand to his son-to-be. “And congratulations to you, too, Dean. You better take care of her.”

“I will, sir.”

“I mean it. I may not be as young as I used to be, and I’m not a wrestler by any means, but I can still kick your ass.”

Behind them, you could hear the sound of Seth’s laughter at his stepdad’s words as your mother embraced you. “He’s not bluffing,” Seth stated.

“I believe you, Mr. Lopez.”

“Damn right ya do.”

In all the excitement, you hadn’t realized that your phone was buzzing in your back pocket, the sound of Roman’s voice once again floating to your ears.

[So did he propose yet or what?]

You weren’t so lucky this time around.

“Roman told you?”

_Oh, fuck._


End file.
